


The Trails Which We Leave Behind Us

by silverstardust



Series: The Trails Which We Leave Behind [7]
Category: Mumintroll | Moomins Series - Tove Jansson, 楽しいムーミン一家 | Moomin (Anime 1990)
Genre: Absent Parents, Babysitting, Background Characters are unimportant, Being Lost, Catching Up, Childhood Memories, Childhood amnesia, Coming of Age, Cried Writing This Chapter, Druids, Family Reunions, Fantastic Racism, Forebodings, Found Family, Good Parent Joxaren | The Joxter, HERE HE COMES, Happy Ending, I can't believe that's not a tag already, IT BEGINS, Implied/Referenced Underage Drinking, Letters, Love Letters, Magic, Midsummer, Mumrik Gathering, Mutual Pining, Nosebleed, Oh god the pining, Original Mythology, Oshun Oxtra, Prophetic Dreams, Prophetic Visions, References to Canon, References to previous fanfics, Returning Home, Reunited and It Feels So Good, Slight Nightmare Horror, Snufkin Curses, Snufkin has parental issues, Snusmumriken | Snufkin Has Paws and a Tail, Snusmumriken | Snufkin is a Cat, Spirits, Train Hopping, Trains, Weddings, Witches, World Travel, coming home, disguises, enchanted forests, only slightly, slight angst, technically
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-26
Updated: 2020-04-08
Packaged: 2021-02-19 12:26:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 16,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22911025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silverstardust/pseuds/silverstardust
Summary: He's been told, every single time he asked, the same answer no matter who he asked.The last time his father had been seen, Snufkin was four. They both had disappeared without a trace, and only Snufkin had returned years later, alone. He's most likely dead, everyone says. It's a fact, and Snufkin has grown comfortable with that fact- facts can't change, and you simply deal with them or not. But then a seemingly innocent letter arrives, and fact is not fact anymore.It brings questions he's not comfortable with.---“Moomin, my dad is alive.”--July 30, 2020 Update: A heavily edited version of this story is in the works for publication. Any publication of this story or a story similar is authorized.
Relationships: Mumintrollet | Moomintroll/Snusmumriken | Snufkin
Series: The Trails Which We Leave Behind [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1495559
Comments: 69
Kudos: 198





	1. A Letter

_He’s been here in his dreams before._

_The gnarled bark and twisted roots of the cypress tree was familiar and almost comforting to the touch, and the shade from its leaves was pleasantly cool, small patches of sunlight filtering through the canopy and illuminating small spots on the ground._

__

_As Snufkin walked around the tree, fingertips trailing on the bark, the site of the decimated camp greeted him the same as ever, if not a bit more broken down and destitute. Vines and moss had taken over the campfire, and the canvas of the tent had been mostly eaten away, a few scraps loosely clinging to the poles and fluttering in the breeze. In the distance came the echoing trickle of a brook._

__

_But the dream was different this time._

__

_The faceless man stood in the center of the camp. Over the years, ever since Snufkin had seen him for the first time, the faceless man had become a bit fuller, like he’d been a photo taken by a camera with a sharper lens, the fuzzy blurriness becoming more and more clear. But even still, the man’s face remained distorted, a missing piece._

__

_The faceless man regarded Snufkin neutrally, and the smell that always accompanied him, hints of sea salt and campfire and tobacco smoke tickled Snufkin’s nose._

__

_“Hello,” Snufkin said._

__

_“Do you know me?” the faceless man asked._

__

_“You’ve said before that I must know some version of you.”_

__

_“But do you know who I am?” the man asked, and Snufkin fell silent. The man’s shoulders drooped, and Snufkin felt a small bit of guilt settle into his stomach._

__

_“I wish I did-” Snufkin began, but when he blinked, the man was gone. The wind in the campsite began to pick up, howling and raging as it tore past him, shaking the forest and carrying the sound of something fluttering. Just as soon as the wind had picked up, a flurry of letters blew into the campsite, yanked this way and that as the wind circled them around the camp, always just out of reach when Snufkin attempted to grab one._

__

_The faceless man reappeared amongst the letters, slowly walking towards Snufkin. He reached up, his own claws sinking into the side of his face, peeling the skin away like wax over his face. Snufkin stumbled back, and the faceless man threw the waxy skin to the side, heaving like he’d never breathed clearly before and covering his face with his hands._

__

_Slowly, the man opened his eyes, peeking through between his fingers, piercing blue drilling into Snufkin._

__

  


__

Snufkin snapped his eyes open to the telltale pulsing aching in his temples. It rattled his brain like it was caught in a raging current during a storm, and he wanted nothing more than to pull the nearest soft object over his face to go back to sleep. But the sun was shining the first morning rays through the attic window, and Snufkin never was able to sleep once the sun rose.

__

Also, his nasals were rapidly filling with liquid.

__

Snufkin bolted up from his makeshift bed, coughing violently as he lifted a hand to his nose. When he pulled his hand away, a small bit of blood was smeared against his fingers, and the second the wave of nausea hit, Snufkin leapt out of bed and slid down the attic ladder, stumbling to the bathroom.

__

His limbs turned to jelly as he collapsed against the bathroom floor, grabbing the bucket meant to fill the bath and throwing up into it.

__

The bathroom door creaked open as Snufkin retched into the bucket, trying to clear his throat. Then the door opened a bit further, and his sister Pila carefully sat down next to him, offering him a towel. Snufkin gratefully took it, pressing it against his nose as he leaned back against the wall.

__

“Thank you,” he said hoarsely. Pila nodded, wrapping her arms around her legs and resting her chin on her knees.

__

“You can go back to bed,” Snufkin offered, but she shook her head.

__

The bathroom door was pushed open further, and Little My poked in, frowning.

__

“Everything alright?”

__

Pila shook her head, gesturing to the bucket, and Snufkin pulled the towel away from his nose, cautiously checking to see if he was still bleeding. Little My disappeared with the bucket before returning with a glass of water and ushering Pila back to bed.

__

Snufkin carefully sipped from the water glass, and Little My stepped in front of him, hands planted firmly on her hips.

__

“You going to be alright?”

__

“I will be now.” Snufkin set the empty glass aside, clearing his throat again.

__

“You better change out of your nightclothes before mother thinks you’re actually sick.” Little My turned on her heels, heading back down the hall. “And don’t forget what your doom vibes or whatever told you and get us all killed.”

__

“That’s not how it works.”

__

“Whatever.”

__

Snufkin sighed as Little My disappeared back into her bedroom, shakily standing up and picking up the empty glass to set it away in the cabinets.

__

  


__

Moomin liked to think that, after all these years, he knew Snufkin well. Snufkin closely guarded his emotions and preferred to keep a calm, cool and logical front, but there were little tics that bled through, little tells that one could pick up if they knew what to look for.

__

Snufkin wasn’t one to get impatient, or at least, wasn’t one to show it, but he was tapping his fingers against the veranda table, brassy fur stained red at the fingertips from strawberries as he stared off down the road to town. His tail laid calm against the chair, but the tip curled upon itself anxiously, and Snufkin’s replies to the ongoing conversation were halfhearted, and rather vague.

__

“I’m telling you, Mrs. Fillijonk deserves it!” Little My continued plotting. “We ought to do it!”

__

“Just because she seemingly has it out for you doesn’t mean the rest of us ought to antagonize her further,” Snorkmaiden complained. “You’re only going to get us in trouble.”

__

“Not if you do exactly what I say!”

__

Moomin sighed, flicking the top of his strawberry over the veranda railing and into the grass. Snufkin’s rhythmic tapping continued as Snorkmaiden and My argued over the pros and cons of vandalizing Mrs. Fillijonk’s fence. Moomin gently bumped his knee against Snufkin’s under the table.

__

Snufkin startled slightly, lifting his head from his hand and looking at him. With a shrug, Snufkin turned back to watching the road. But Moomin could catch the faintest whiff of ginger tea from Snufkin’s mug, and guessed it must be forebodings that was bothering him.

__

“What do you think, Snufkin?” My suddenly demanded.

__

“Best not to do so during the day,” Snufkin advised vaguely and Snorkmaiden snorted in disagreement.

__

“Hullo there, mail for Moominhouse!” the mailman called as he headed up the road towards the veranda. Snufkin stood up instantly, jumping down the steps and walking over to the mailman to greet him.

__

“Was he expecting something?” My asked.

__

“Not that I know of,” Moomin replied, watching as Snufkin tucked a letter away into his pocket, waving to the mailman as he headed back to the veranda.

__

“So?” Little My said as Snufkin leaned against the railing. “Whatchya got there?”

__

Snufkin frowned. “It’s none of your business, Little My.”

__

“You never get mail! Peg me curious. Aren’t you going to open it?”

__

“I said it was none of your business, My.”

__

“After your face tried to resemble a fountain this morning, I think it is.”

__

Snufkin scowled.

__

Moomin looked to Snufkin with concern. “Snufkin, you should have said something if your forebodings were that bad.”

__

“The bleeding stopped within minutes. I was fine and everything is going to be fine.”

__

“Then open the letter and read it!” My groaned.

__

Snufkin shot her a glare. “It’s none of your business, My.”

__

Snorkmaiden sighed dramatically. “Oh, leave it be, My! Just because you have burrs in your tail doesn’t mean you’ve got to go and make everyone else miserable.”

__

The veranda door opened and Moominmamma stepped out, wiping her paws on her apron. “What’s all the commotion out here? Is something the matter?”

__

“Snufkin’s got forebodings and he’s not telling us what!” My yelled. “Which means he and Moomin are going to go do something stupid again like with the avalanche!”

__

“We are not!” Moomin jumped in, “I don’t even know what it is yet!”

__

“Oh dear.” Moominmamma shook her head, picking up the nearly empty bowl of strawberries from the veranda table. “Sometimes things shouldn’t be said at all, or it could send people into a panic. I’m sure when the time is right and when he’s ready, Snufkin will tell us. In the meantime, why don’t you kids come in for lunch? Sniff’s already opened the last jar of winterberry jam.”

__

“Snufkin, do you-” Moomin began, but when he turned back to where Snufkin had been leaning against the railing, he was already gone.

__

  


__

The Mymble always did her laundry on the fourth day of the week, right after lunch. It was a fact, as mymlans were creatures of habit, after all. So Snufkin shoved the letter back into his pocket, not caring if it crumpled and creased, and dried his eyes as best he could before heading down the river to his mother’s home.

__

And sure enough, his mother is outside with baskets of laundry, hanging them on a clothesline with one of his sisters. Neither of them said anything when he walked over and picked up a freshly washed dress, beginning to help them.

__

“Johanna,” Mymble said after a minute, “Go check on your sisters.”

__

Johanna disappeared without a word and Mymble continued to hang the laundry.

__

“You didn’t have to send her away,” Snufkin said quietly.

__

“You’ve got questions.”

__

“Maybe I don’t. I haven’t asked any yet.”

__

“You do,” Mymble said, pinning another dress on the clothesline. “Because you only help me with laundry if you have questions about your father.”

__

The contents of the letter echoed in the back of Snufkin’s mind, and he tried to swallow the lump in his throat. “Maybe so.”

__

“Go ahead then, dear. Ask anything.”

__

“Did he really love me?”

__

Mymble sighed softly through her nose, smoothing out a few wrinkles in a blouse. “Snufkin, the first time he held you, I knew there was very little room left in Joxter’s heart for me, because you had wiggled your way in and filled every corner. He adored you. He’d barely let go of you.”

__

“Then why did he leave?”

__

“He didn’t. Not intentionally. The two of you left for winter and never came back. But Joxter wouldn’t have left you or let anything separate the two of you. But he never came back, and you wandered your way back alone by pure accident.”

__

Mymble fumbled with a clothespin, taking a deep breath to steady herself.

__

“He asked me to marry him, before you two disappeared.”

__

Snufkin froze, looking at her with uncertainty. He had placed two and two together before, when he had first returned to Moominvalley and began to recover the blank spots in his memory, of his childhood and his parents, and the aging, crumpled package in the bottom of his bag that he never had the guts to throw away despite not knowing what it was. But this was a new story, uncharted territory, something he hadn’t heard before.

__

“I told him no,” Mymble said, her voice breaking. “I told him to wait until spring. Sometimes I wonder if he would have come back if I had said yes.”

__

The letter weighed down Snufkin’s jacket like a boulder, and he opened his mouth to try and say something, try and tell her, but he couldn’t force the words out. The flowery green ribbon that held Mymble’s hair in place fluttered lightly in the breeze.

__

Mymble picked up a thin dish towel, stained light pink in the center despite the thorough washing. She held it up, inspecting the damage.

__

“You saw something,” she said, but there was no accusation in her tone.

__

Snufkin didn’t say anything and Mymble sighed, seemingly the towel too damaged for further use and tossed it aside.

__

“My only request is that you remain safe. Please.”

__

  


__

“You’re leaving early.”

__

Snufkin glanced up from folding his tent, and Moomin was standing at the edge of his camp, twirling the tuft of fur at the end of his tail.

__

Snufkin didn’t have anything to say in his defense. The leaves on the trees had barely even begun to change color. So instead he tied his folded tent to his bag and stood up.

__

“Walk with me?”

__

Moomin agreed, so they headed down the trail together. Normally, when he left Moominvalley for winter, Snufkin took the overpass in Lonely Mountains. But there was a hiking trail down by the beach that headed in a different direction, that he’d be taking this time instead. He let Moomin walk with him until they reached the very edge of what was considered Moominvalley, before he stopped, turning to face Moomin.

__

“I’m leaving early this year.”

__

“I could tell,” Moomin chuckled. “I’m going to miss you. I’ll see you next spring.”

__

Snufkin’s mouth felt dry. “I might not be back next spring.”

__

Moomin’s face slowly fell. “...what?”

__

“I’ll be coming back!” Snufkin quickly reassured him. “I will, I promise. But maybe not in the spring. I might be gone longer.”

__

Moomin nodded, twisting his tail tuft again, a nervous tick that Snufkin always found adorable. “Can I ask why?”

__

“My dad might be alive.”

__

“Really? That’s amazing! He can come back and- and… why hasn’t he come back yet?”

__

Snufkin pulled his Autumn letter from his pocket. “I don’t know. But I want to try and find out. Here- my Autumn letter.”

__

Moomin took the letter and held it tightly. “Please write letters if you can, Snuf. I’ll get lonely if you don’t.”

__

“I will. And please don’t tell anyone. I don’t want to raise false hopes or cause a panic.”

__

Moomin smiled, crossing an X over his heart. “Of course. Safe travels!”

__

“Happy hibernation.” Snufkin waved before turning and heading down the trail.

__

  


__

  


__

_Moominpappa-_

__

_It’s been a while since I’ve heard from you, and a while since I sent you a report about my latest work. I’m nearly finished with my fully automated ship navigation system, although it’s been a whole lot of hard work. As soon as I’m finished, I’ll submit a report for vacation time and come visit you all._

____

_Speaking of visiting, Joxter was incredibly far south recently, and I crossed paths with him briefly. He seemed a little out of sorts, and didn’t even stay long enough for a drink. Is everything alright in the valley? Please check in on him for me when he returns home, it was rather concerning._

____

_I hope I will be able to visit soon._

____

_Regards,_

____

_Hodgekins, Royal Inventor to His Majesty, the King_

____


	2. Hodgekins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the word q*eer is used an era term in a unoffensive manner. Hodgekins is not being homophobic, but accurately using the word as it would have been used in the 1940s.

_October_

_Moomintroll-_

_I know I probably left a lot of questions unanswered when I left Moominvalley. I’m sorry, I’ll try to answer them here as best I can._

_The letter wasn’t actually intended for me, it was intended for Moominpappa. But as you probably figured out from My’s ruckus, I’d been having forebodings all morning about the letter. It felt right to interfere, although maybe I shouldn’tve, but even now it feels like the right thing to have done. Moominpappa has the tendency to talk, after all, and we both know his track record of things he probably shouldn’t have said. I didn’t want anyone to panic, or get false hopes up. I didn’t particularly want them stopping me, either._

_But the letter was from Uncle Hodgekins- you remember him, don’t you? The reclusive royal inventor we see every few years or so. He’s southwest from here, farther than I usually go for my winter travels, so I ended up having to hop a couple of trains…_

  


  


Snufkin ducked out of the trainyard as soon as the boxcar came to a stop, clutching the letter from Hodgekins tightly in his hands. The address on the envelope told him that this was the city Hodgekins resided in- or, at least, was the city he had been in when the letter was sent. More likely than not, Snufkin thought as he slipped into the alleyway between two large buildings, if Hodgekins was working on a sort of ship navigation, he’d have some sort of workshop near the harbor, or he’d be on his ship in the harbor. So either way, he was having to head across the city.

Snufkin dusted off some of the dirt from the knees and elbows of his clothes before slipping in seamlessly into the city crowds. Cities were not his forte, too crowded and busy and noisy for his tastes, and Snufkin tried to avoid them altogether if he could, but he knew enough about them to pass through without issues when he needed to. He effortlessly lost the shouting train conductor in the crowd and from there, he began to wander the city streets.

Just down the road was a mail post, much larger than the one at home in Moominvalley, and clutching the envelope in hand, Snufkin slipped inside.

A fillijonk was sitting behind the counter, head buried in some sort of book, but when the wind chime rang, hit by the top of the door, she looked up.

“Excuse me, I’m looking for someone.”

“This is a post office, young man. The police office is across the street and a block down.”

“Oh, they’re not lost.” Snufkin stepped to the counter, setting the envelope down. “I’m visiting my uncle. Can you point me in the right direction of this address?”

The fillijonk’s eyebrows slowly raised as she picked up the envelope, glancing over the address. “Where are your parents? You’re much too young to be traveling by yourself.”

“I took the train. The address, please.”

“Without your parents? That’s hardly safe-”

Snufkin flashed her an annoyed smile, sharp fangs clearly visible. “As a mumrik, I think you’ll find me entirely resourceful. The address, ma’am.”

The fillijonk jolted away slightly, pushing the envelope back towards him on the counter. “Continue down this road until you see a street sign that says ‘Heather Lane’. Turn left, and his workshop should be on that street. If he’s not there, he’ll be on his ship down in the harbor, which is further down Heather Lane. Bright blue, you won’t miss it.”

“Thank you.” Snufkin scooped up the envelope, tucking it back into his jacket pocket as he slipped out of the post office. He was standing in front of the workshop within minutes, glancing in through one of the windows.

There wasn’t any lanterns lit up inside, but when he tested the door, he found it unlocked, so Snufkin stepped inside. He could see the muted grays of everything inside easily with his night eyes, so he carefully stepped around hunks of metal and wires and the occasional pile of gears, poking around curiously but making sure not to touch anything that looked potentially important. There oddly wasn’t a single lantern or candle to light, but a variety of different blueprints were tacked onto the walls, catching Snufkin’s attention. And suddenly, the room lit up brilliantly, with a soft buzzing noise. Unprepared for the sudden transition in light levels, Snufkin slapped his hands over his eyes.

“Shop’s closed.”

“Door was unlocked, so I came in.” Snufkin rubbed his eyes, looking up to the ceiling. Odd lanterns hung from the ceiling, holding glass balls that were brighter than any oil lantern he had used before, thick cables suspending them in the air. “How did you do that?”

“Do what?” The troll walked down the last couple of stairs and began to gather up a few pieces of stray papers. “Don’t stare at those too long. You’ll burn your retinas.”

“The lanterns. They lit up by themselves. You didn’t light the oil. They don’t have any oil in them at all.”

The troll set the stack of papers down on one of the workbenches. “Electricity? The whole city is run on electricity.”

“You can you electricity for lights?”

“You must be from out of town. Here.” The troll beckoned Snufkin over, then picked up two thin wires. Slowly, he brought them together, and what looked like sparks and miniature bolts of lightning shot out when the tips of the wires touched, causing Snufkin’s fur to stand on end from the sudden charge in the air.

“Electricity. It can power lights, engines, and telephones, instead of directly using coal and oil.”

“Amazing. How do you make it like that? I don’t imagine you’re catching and storing lightning away for a later day.”

The troll set the wires away. “You don’t. It’s more like harnessing it, like how breadmakers harness wind to make flour. Anyways, the shop is closed and Mr. Hodgekins is away, so I’ll have to ask you to move on, please.”

Snufkin stepped aside as the troll moved on to continue cleaning. “Actually, I’m looking for Hodgekins, if you don’t mind. He’s my uncle, and I need to talk with him. I heard he might be on the docks?”

“That’s where you’ll find him right now, alright. Good luck pulling him away from his project though. It’s nearly impossible.”

“Thank you.” With one more curious look up at the electric lanterns, Snufkin headed out.

The smell of sea salt was strong enough for Snufkin to find the harbor simply by following his nose. The ship dock was multiple times larger than the small one with a bathhouse back in Moominvalley, and many huge ships, painted whites and yellows and reds were tied to the posts, slowly bobbing up and down in the water, making Snufkin feel dwarfed by their size. He could hear sea shanties being sung from one of the larger ships, one that still had its sails up, the smell of brine and fish wafting from it. He waved to them as he passed.

Slightly beyond the fishing boat was the ship Snufkin was looking for. Smaller than most of the other ships but still a brilliant sapphire blue with cardinal red trims, the sight of the Oshun Oxtra, _the_ Oshun Oxtra from Moominpappa’s stories set a quiver down his tail. For all the poetry and prose that Moominpappa had given it, Snufkin didn’t think any of it gave the ship justice. It was far more impressive to him than the largest ship in the dock. He reached out, letting his fingertips trail the wooden side as he walked over to the rope ladder and climbed up.

The upper deck was empty, so Snufkin took a moment to pace the deck, savoring the sound of the wood creaking beneath his boots. His steps came slightly unsteady, unused to the gentle rocking of the ship, but with each step it became easier. The railing under Snufkin’s hand was smooth from the hundreds of touches that came before his own, only marred by the occasional knick or divet caused by someone’s claws.

Snufkin pulled his hands away from the railing, following the noise of clanging machinery up to the ship's helm, where inside, he found his uncle.

Hodgekins.

Hodgekins was halfway inside a large metal box that was covered in switches and buttons. The noise came from inside the box, where no doubt he was tinkering away.

Snufkin stepped into the helm, rapping his knuckles against the door frame, and Hodgekins slid out of the box just enough to see him.

“Oh, Snufkin! Awfully far from home, aren’t we?”

“It’s the farthest I’ve ever come, but I’m used to long winter travels.” Snufkin stepped over to the box, eyeing it curiously. “Your letter said this was a ship navigation system?”

Hodgekins lit up excitedly. “That it is! It can pull up hundreds of different maps in seconds and show you the entire globe! Once I get it to work, that is.”

“Impressive.”

Hodgekins slid out from inside the box, wiping grease off his hand with a spare rag. “How’s everything in the valley? It’s been a couple years since I’ve been able to visit.”

“Everyone’s doing relatively alright. Snork is making good progress on his flight machine.” Snufkin paused, shifting on his feet. “You said you saw my father recently.”

“Oh, yes! He stopped by a few weeks ago, didn’t stay long. He kept avoiding my questions about the valley- did he and Moominpappa get into a tizzy again? Don’t tell me I need to come and knock some sense into them again.” Hodgekins shook his head in exasperation as he stood up and began to sort away his tools.

“Actually, no one’s seen him in eight years. We thought he was dead.”

One of Hodgekin’s many small wrenches clattered to the floor. Hodgekins quickly scooped it up before it could be lost amongst the other tools, putting it away in a small box before closing his toolbox. He latched it shut, pausing before he spoke.

“Well, he was certainly very alive when we ran into each other,” Hodgekins said slowly. “Eight years?”

“Yes.”

The two of them moved to the ship’s kitchen to continue their conversation, Hodgekins pouring them both some tea before settling down at the table.

“Do you know what happened?”

Snufkin shook his head. “Mom said he and I left for winter when I was four, and didn’t come back. I wandered back when I was eight, but I don’t remember anything that happened either. No one’s heard of Joxter since.”

“Not even Mymble?”

“No one.”

“Well, I can’t imagine anyone took my letter well, then.”

Snufkin swallowed heavily. “They, uh, no one knows. Except for me and Moomin.”

Hodgekin’s eyebrows slowly rose, and Snufkin flushed slightly.

“I don’t go stealing mail all the time. I had forebodings and it seemed right to intervene.”

“I suppose that was for the best, wasn’t it? Moominpappa would have been over dramatic as always. I suppose that means you’re looking for him?”

“I’m looking for answers. But..”

“But?”

Snufkin looked down into his mug of tea, tapping the side of his cup. “What was Joxter like? Without the embellishments or rose colored lenses.”

Hodgekins chuckled lightly, pouring himself a second cup of tea. “Stubborn. Overdramatic. Sly as a fox and a bit of a fruit.”

“A bit of a- what?”

“A bit queer.” Hodgekins waved his hand dismissively. “Didn’t matter to us much. Rather smart though, he knew star maps like the back of his hand. He’d take one look up at the stars and he could tell us our longitude and latitude, give or take about five degrees. Had a knack for getting in trouble though. He got himself and Moominpappa bewitched by fae.”

Snufkin leaned forward in his seat slightly. “That was real?”

“Mostly, although I can’t say I’m sure what Moominpappa told you. They were asleep in the woods for a few days, Joxter said. Insisted they didn’t do anything to upset them.”

“I thought that was made up.”

“One of a very few that weren’t, I imagine.” Hodgekins smiled wryly before it slowly faded. “Simply disappearing doesn’t sound anything like him. Especially if it would put someone else at risk. Running away from an argument for a few days, I’d accept that. But eight years? And you said you were with him? Do you have any idea?”

Snufkin sighed softly, rubbing the small twisted scar on his forehead. “No. The farthest back I can really remember is the orphanage I was in for a while. The headmistress said she found me in a bucket and guessed I must’ve been dumped-”

“No,” Hodgekins interrupted, and Snufkin startled, looking back up to him.

“If he hadn’t wanted you- and that’s a big ‘if’, he wouldn’t have changed his mind after four years- he would have left you with Mymble, not dump you somewhere foreign.”

“You sound certain.”

Hodgekins frowned slightly, tapping his fingers on the table. “He didn’t like to talk about it- he avoided or changed the topic, actually. But sometimes the way he talked so dismissively about his childhood makes me think he got dumped by his own parents. Mentioned an old farmer and some dead parental figures a couple times, but never mentioned his birth parents. He always said he traveled alone.”

“Oh,” Snufkin muttered, and Hodgekins regarded his slumped form sadly.

“He did love you,” Hodgekins said softly. “Sometimes we’d joke that it’d take surgery to physically separate you two. He’d barely even pass you to your mother, much less anyone else.”

“Doesn’t particularly feel like it,” Snufkin bit back, but Hodgekins only seemed to watch him a bit more sadly.

  


  


_Early November_

_Dear Snufkin,_

_I know I ought to be hibernating, I know, I know. But I’ve simply been so excited about your adventures that I couldn’t sleep at all! I promise I tried, but I couldn’t stay asleep. Please keep sending me letters and telling me everything that happens! Your letters will keep me company while everyone is asleep._

_Was it really the same boat that our dads traveled on? How big was it? It certainly sounds like the prettiest ship ever when papa talked about it. Did Hodgekins get his map machine to work?_

_Your sister Mumble moved in with us to hibernate for winter, while Too Ticki stays in our bath house again, to be closer to town. She’s started telling me about the Lady of the Cold now that it’s been trying to snow the past couple of days..._


	3. The Witch's Cabin

_Mid November_

_Moomintroll-_

_As long as you aren’t forcing yourself to stay awake, it’s alright. But please promise me that if you feel the need to go back into hibernation, you will! Please don’t make yourself sick on my account. I’ll try to send letters as often as I can for you. And please tell me what’s going on in the valley while I’m gone, and send everyone my love. (Except for the park keeper- hit him with a shovel for me, won’t you?)_

_Uncle Hodgekins said my father went much further south, or at least, that’s the direction he initially left in. I ended up hopping a few freight trains to make the trip shorter, and I ended up in a country which I believe is named Poland…_

  


  


Snufkin had stayed the night at Hodgekins’ insistence, mostly convinced only by the chill being carried by the winds. But as soon as the sun was up, Snufkin was as well, and left with hardly a note for his uncle, sneaking onto the first southbound freight train. He easily hid himself away from the eyes of the conductor and the other equipment men behind a few precariously stacked crates, watching the landscape pass by through the cracks in the wooden boxcar door.

When the train stopped, the conductor drunk and bumbling, it was easy to steal away from the boxcar and into the surrounding forests.

But now that he was here, he wasn’t sure quite what to do. Sure, he knew his father had headed south, but only now was he realizing he should’ve asked more questions from Hodgekins. What town or city was his father heading towards? Was he far enough south, or had he gone too far? His father could have even started south, then switched directions outside of the city lines.

But as he traipsed through the forest, he shoved those thoughts down and pushed on. If he couldn’t find any other trace of Joxter, then he’d simply head home, and no one at home would be none the wiser at what he had attempted to do. He’d never have to tell them. But for now, as long as there was some semblance of a trail that Joxter left behind, Snufkin would follow it. Right now, it’s just him and the forest though- the silence and isolation he always found himself craving towards the end of fall, and that alone was enough. He could pretend it was just one of his normal winter trips, if a bit more daring on the distance.

That was immediately shattered by a young woman stopping on the same path he was on, staring at him.

The woman was clearly as startled as he was, to see someone else so deep in the woods, but she schooled it well, her face carefully neutral.

“Awfully far from your destination?” the woman asked cautiously. “The main road is further behind you.”

“I don’t travel by roads.”

The woman nodded, not saying anything else. Her grip on the wicker basket in her hands tightened, and she tilted her head slightly, as if studying him. Snufkin found his gaze drifting towards the woman’s hair, intrigued at the deep blue color that stained it that couldn’t be natural.

“How did you get your hair like that?”

The woman smiled slightly, pushing a lock of hair off her shoulder. “Elderberries and blueberries, mixed with soap. You can get green with moss.” She bent forward slightly, tapping the visible blonde roots in the crown of her head before turning on her heels, beginning to walk away.

“Come, little mumrik,” she called over her shoulder. “My sister is away, today. Join me for lunch.”

Snufkin followed her off the trail and for a while, as they walked, it seemed that they were walking aimlessly. But then they passed under two trees, whose branches seemed to meld over their heads into a sort of arch, and the very air seemed to push back against him, resisting his forward movement. But the woman pushed through seemingly without effort, and when Snufkin pushed through past her, the drop in pressure made his ears pop, and a cabin, lonely but comforting, popped into view.

Something about it made his fur stand on edge with unease.

The woman headed towards the cabin, and Snufkin hesitantly followed, eyeing his surroundings. A makeshift hut of branches and vines caught his attention, the inside empty save for a simple hammock, but he could have sworn he saw something move inside. But the witch walked past it, into the cabin, and Snufkin followed suit.

The inside of the cabin was homely, if a bit small. The living room, the kitchen, and the dining room were all connected together, without walls, and a set of stairs disappeared further up, where presumably there were bedrooms, and disappeared down with a hatch, presumably into a food cellar. A huge cauldron rested above a fire, and as the woman sorted through the contents of her wicker basket, Snufkin stepped over to it, peeking inside.

Something thick and goopy bubbled slowly inside, a sickly yellow in color and quite foul smelling.

_A witch-_

Snufkin leapt back as the woman- the witch- turned to him.

“Truffles?” she asked.

“You’re a witch!”

“Don’t disturb that, my sister has been working hard on that,” the woman sniffed in disdain, setting a plate down on the table. “It’s a cure for the blight on our roses. I’m not going to hurt you.” She sat down in one of the chairs, picking up a truffle and taking a bite from it. “Too much of one energy or another sends your chakras out of alignment. Violence sends them very much out of alignment.” She gestured to one of the seats at the table, across from her.

Snufkin warily sat down across from her. “What are you talking about?”

“The seven chakras- crown, third eye, throat, heart, solar plexus, sacral, root.” The woman gestured to the areas on her own body as she listed them. “I commune with ancient forbidden ones, keep them pleased and content so they do not wish harm on this realm. This requires me to be well balanced, and to maintain my chakras. Thus, no violence. Or as little as possible.” She popped another truffle into her mouth as Snufkin hesitantly took one before looking startled. “Oh dear, my manners. My apologies- my name is Bonnie.”

“Snufkin, nice to meet you then. I’m sorry for my earlier attitude- the witch who lives near my town is… quite unpleasant.”

Bonnie chuckled slightly. “Any witch worth her salt wouldn’t feel threatened by the presence of another magical creature.”

“The only other magical person in the village is her granddaughter who’s training under her.”

Bonnie blinked slightly, as if shocked, before schooling herself back to neutral. “My apologies then, I didn’t mean to assume. I’ve never seen a mortal with their third eye balanced so perfectly. Even my own is not, and I’ve been working with chakras for millennia.”

“My third eye?”

Bonnie leaned forward, gently tapped the middle of his forehead. “The third eye chakra, or the brow chakra. Your intuition, the ability to keep the bigger picture in mind, and such.” She sat back in her chair, frowning. “The rest of you is out of alignment though. Your heart chakra, especially. That’s going to cause you some problems if you don’t get them back into alignment.”

“How?”

“Meditation, letting go what may be bothering you. The heart is blocked by grief or rage. It is healthy to feel those emotions for some time, of course, but you must let go of them at some point. If you put too much into a bottle, it will break.”

The window next to them opened itself, the wooden windowsill creaking like something was leaning upon it. Snufkin studied it carefully, but there wasn’t any evidence that someone had been there, like it had opened itself. But something along his spine was tingling, like they were being watched. Through the window, if Snufkin looked closer, the view of the trees looked slightly distorted, like he was looking through a mirror-

“There is someone there,” Bonnie suddenly affirmed. “Quite an intuitive little mortal aren’t you? That’s our druid friend- pay him no mind, he’s a bit shy so he wraps himself in invisibility.” She stood up, grabbing a bottle from a satchel from a counter and holding it out to the window. “Be a dear, pour this on the roses? We’re hoping it will take care of the blight.”

The bottle lifted from Bonnie’s hand, floating out the window and away.

Snufkin watched as Bonnie closed and latched the window again. “You can choose to wrap yourself in invisibility? I had a friend who became invisible, but only because she was sad and scared.”

“If you know the right words to say in the right orders, it’s an easy spell to pull off.” Bonnie sat back down at the table, studying him carefully as she laced her fingers under her chin. “You’re looking for someone, aren’t you?”

“How did you know?”

Bonnie smiled once again. “It’s written all over your aura. Who are you looking for? Perhaps I can help.”

Snufkin leaned back in his chair, slowly and meticulously tearing the truffle in his hand in half. “My father, He left me as a child, and I thought he was dead until recently. I want answers.”

Bonnie nodded her head sagely. “I ran into another magical recently- or, well, now I think he may have been mortal like you, despite his oddly colored eyes. His third eye was as perfectly aligned as yours. He said the same thing as you- he doesn’t like to travel by roads.”

Snufkin nearly choked on the truffle half he had put in his mouth. “Which way did he go?”

“He went west from here, I believe. Oh, he mentioned a town, what was it?” Bonnie tapped her cheek in thought. “Hattie? Hathie? Something along those lines.”

“Blue eyes, black fur? Paws shaped like mine?”

“Sharper claws, but yes.” Bonnie stood up, wrapping up the remaining truffles in a wax cloth. “That was your father then, wasn’t it?”

“Yes. I’m awfully sorry to not stay longer, but I have to go.” Snufkin jumped up, pushing his chair in and scooping his bag back up. “I’ll try to remember to come back and visit another time, it was wonderful to meet you.”

Bonnie smiled sadly, shaking her head. “No one usually finds our forest twice, but I appreciate the sentiments nonetheless.” She took one of his hands, placing the wax cloth of truffles in his palm. “Here. For the road. It’s easy for me to find more.”

Snufkin left the cabin at Bonnie’s gentle nudging. He ducked through the arch, glancing over his shoulder to see the cabin one last time, but it had disappeared from sight. Snufkin pressed forward, running through the forest and making his way east.

It was a bit of a stretch perhaps, but fueled with Bonnie’s recollection of the town name, it was enough for Snufkin to be convinced to at least scope the place out. There was a town he recalled from when Moominpappa was writing his memoirs, a town that he recalled visiting multiple times and that Snufkin knew his father was at least familiar with. If he was correct, the town was east of here as well, a small port town that Joxter must have been headed to-

The sea port of Hathway.

  


  


_Early December_

_Dear Snufkin,_

_I didn’t know witches were so common- or nice! But I’m glad it was a nice witch that you ran into, and not a nasty one like Alicia’s grandmother. She could have turned you into a toad or something! And, do you know what a druid is? I tried looking through papa’s storybooks but I couldn’t find a description of what they are._

_It’s starting to snow for real now in the valley! The top of the snowdrifts reach my window. Everyone else in the house has fallen into a deep hibernation- I’ve been the only one who keeps waking up for the past week now. It’s a little lonely, but Too Ticki is usually around, and like I said in my previous letter, your letters keep me wonderful company. ~~I keep them in a box safe under my bed, and I read them over and over when I get lonely, and it’s like you’re sitting right next to me and telling me everything.~~ Too Ticki wishes you luck, by the way. I haven’t told her anything related to your dad (just your whereabouts and what is safe to tell, like visiting with Uncle Hodgekins or running into a nice witch) but, you know Too Ticki. She always seems to know if something is up..._


	4. Hathaway

_Late January_

_Moomintroll-_

_If you think the sea in Moomin Valley was beautiful, I wish you could see the ocean at Hathaway. I wish I had a camera to show you- the water was so bright and beautiful and clear, I’ve never seen anything like it. You could see the rocks and the sand beneath the water like it was made of glass. ~~The water was the same color as yours eyes though, and it reminded me of you.~~_

_But something odd happened in Hathaway. Even now I’m not sure exactly what happened…_

  


  


The forests surrounding ran right along the sealine. The sound of the waves crashing against the cliffside created a beautiful backdrop of white noise for Snufkin’s harmonica as he followed the forest line to the port city in the distance. The smell of sea salt on the crisp fresh air tickled the back of Snufkin’s throat, familiar but not, simultaneously reminding him of the ocean at home, but also of a thick woolen coat, warm and well worn, not too unsimilar to his own..

A note Snufkin didn’t like fluttered from his harmonica, and he stopped his song, pulling his harmonica away with a frown. He’d been trying to compose a spring song (well, a not-so-spring song) but the notes kept coming out wrong, incomplete, like there was a piece that was missing that he didn’t know of. But Snufkin knew better than to force a song that didn’t want to come, so he tucked his harmonica away in his pocket for the time being, settling on enjoying the sound of the waves crashing along the cliffside, the calls of seagulls echoing on the breeze.

Snufkin had always loved the ocean more than any other fantastical thing he had seen in the world. Despite being the same to some no matter what ocean they saw, each ocean was entirely different in their personalities to Snufkin. In the end, true, each ocean could be considered the same, but in every beach or cliffside trail he came across, the ocean carried a new personality, evershifting with the tides. This ocean, in particular, with its clear blue waters, gentle but adventurous, the sea foam curving along the cliff, washing over it in a playful curiosity.

His heart clenched painfully when he thought of Moomin, bluebell eyes the same blue as the ocean, with the same playful shine. The trail had brought him further and further south than he had ever dared to go, and the letters between him and Moomin had become fewer and fewer in number, taking longer to be delivered the farther he went. Normally by now, he’d be making his way back to Moomin Valley.

Instead, he’s in a tropical country with a language where no word was pronounced the way it looked it should. Someone had said “vadrouiller” in reference to him while translating in a neutral tone, and no matter how much he had practiced by himself, trying to pick up what he could of the language, Snufkin simply couldn’t get his tongue to curl in the right way to say it. He’d long given up trying.

Part of him wished to give up and to turn back for home. While he was catching bits and pieces, vague references and descriptions to his father from towns he passed through, it sounded like his father was constantly on the move, barely stopping to rest. Like he was rushing towards something.

~~Or away.~~

An odd sound came from slightly deeper into the forest, catching Snufkin’s attention and causing him to stop. The sound came again, almost like someone crying, and Snufkin carefully passed through the underbrush, heading into the forest.

A small child sat on a tree stump, lip trembling and eyes red and puffy as she cried, furred hands twisting the end of her pink coat.

Snufkin stepped into the small clearing slowly, as to not scare the young mumrik. The child snapped her head to him as the underbrush around him snapped and shifted, hiccuping but inching away ever so slightly on her stump.

“Hello,” Snufkin said gently, “My name’s Snusmumriken. Are you alright?”

The girl shook her head, rubbing her eyes. 

“What’s wrong?”

“I-I lost my mama. And my papa. I got lost.”

Snufkin walked over to the stump, crouching down next to her. “Did your parents tell you where to go if you got lost?”

“They said to go to the city cuz- cuz that’s where we’re going. But I got lost and I don’t know how to get there any more.”

“What’s your name?”

“Miette.”

“Alright, Miette.” Snufkin stood up offering her one of his hands. “I’m going to the city too. Would you like to come with me?”

Miette slid off the stump, hesitantly taking his hand. Snufkin smiled gently at her, leading her back out of the forest and heading down along the cliff side, towards the city.

“What do your parents look like, Miette?”

“Um-” Miette wrinkled her nose slightly. “My papa looks a little scary but he’s very nice. He has a brown jacket. Mama’s jacket is red with flowers.”

“What are their names?”

“Luuli and… and…” Miette’s gaze dropped to the ground. “I don’t remember papa’s name.”

“That’s alright, we’ll be able to find them with that.”

And Snufkin was going to give them a piece of his mind. They had left behind their own kid, forgotten to even do so much as glance back to make sure she was keeping up with him. Entirely unacceptable. Even though he did not like his army of little siblings all that much, he at least checked behind him to make sure he had all of them still when they chose to tag along with him.

“Are you hungry, Miette?” Snufkin asked instead.

Miette hesitated but shook her head. Snufkin dug through his pocket and offered her a small bag of berries anyways, and the two continued to walk in silence. Slowly, the port came clearer and clearer into view, ships coming and leaving the harbor as they wished, and wagons travelling the roads in and out of the city. But as they grew closer, Snufkin felt a small bit of resistance in the tugging of his arm, and he stopped to turn and look back at Miette. She had stumbled over a rock in the path, and while she had not fallen, she was lagging behind slightly, shoulders and eyes drooping.

“Are you tired?”

Miette nodded, letting go of Snufkin’s hand to rub her eyes. Without a second thought, Snufkin scooped her up like he did often with his younger sisters, carrying her in his arms as he continued on the path, as the small girl closed her eyes and rested her head on Snufkin’s shoulder.

“You’re looking for someone too,” Miette said suddenly, after such a long period of silence that Snufkin had thought she’d fallen asleep. He startled slightly, but quickly settled himself, trying not to jostle her.

“I am. How did you know?”

“Your heart song,” Miette murmured, eyes still closed. “It’s loud. Off-key. You’re angry.”

“I’m angry because your parents were careless and left you behind.”

“He left you behind too.”

Snufkin shifted Miette in his arms slightly. It felt like as time passed and he continued to carry her, she was growing much heavier, like he was attempting to carry a person much larger than her.

“How do you know that?” Snufkin asked cautiously, but the girl didn’t respond, her face nestled into his scarf. He sighed, shifting her once again. “You’re awfully perceptive for a little girl.”

“ ‘m not a little girl,” Miette mumbled into her scarf, before shifting her head and truly falling asleep this time, leaving Snufkin to continue walking in silence.

  


Miette didn’t wake up again until Snufkin was approaching the city limits, squirming to be let down. Snufkin let her slide out of his arms, steadying her so she landed on her feet, leading her into the city. Grateful it was one of the few cities that spoke a language he actually understood, he carefully led Miette around the busy main streets, asking the people milling about and the storekeeper about her parents. Their investigations led them to outside a bar, the windows slightly tinted. But inside, he could see a bright red jacket, sitting at one of the tables.

Snufkin stepped inside the bar. Miette trailed close to him, hands clutching the fabric of his jacket as he scoped around, and sure enough, at one of the tables not occupied by various drunkards was an older mumrik, wearing a jacket of bright red, with flowers stitched around the hem.

“Hey!” Snufkin shouted, not loud enough to catch the attention of inebriated drunks but loud enough to startle the mumrik woman and cause her attention to shift from the man across from her to him. Angrily storming over to them, he slammed his hands down on the table, and the man startled as well, eyes wide as the woman’s as they stared at him.

“Awful lot of nerve you must have to leave your kid alone in the forest,” Snufkin snapped.

“Our… kid,” the woman said slowly, eyebrows raising.

Snufkin seethed internally, barely suppressing a growl. “Yes. Miette. Who I found crying alone in the forest-”

“Miette is twenty,” the woman interrupted, and Snufkin froze. Carefully, the woman glanced him over, mouth tightening into a grimace.

“But-” Snufkin glanced down, but Miette was gone. Looking around the bar showed no sign of her, and neither did glancing outside. “She- she was just here.”

“I don’t know who you ran into, but I don’t think it was an actual person,” the woman said. “Don’t be getting tricked by fae now, kid.”

“He looks like Joxaren,” the man suddenly blurted, as if shaking himself from a stupor. 

The barmaid stopped at their table, refilling the man’s mug and plopping a fresh one in front of Snufkin. Snufkin opened his mouth to say something, beginning to push it away, but the barmaid simply laughed, pushing it back to him as she sat down in one of the two unoccupied chairs.

“Mumriks drink on the house, kiddo.” The barmaid smiled, resting her chin on her interlocked fingers. “Especially children of friends.”

“You know my dad?” Snufkin asked at the same time the woman asked “Joxaren is alive?”

“Hold on now, don’t go bombarding me with questions!” The barmaid laughed, shaking her head and dropping her cleaning cloth on the counter. “Let’s get introductions out of the way first! I’m Joséphine!”

“Snusmumriken.” Snufkin tried to push the mug back, flushing red when the barmaid set it back in front of him. “Miss, I’m underage.”

“Have you given a shit about that before?” the barmaid asked, “Most mumriks are drinking by fourteen.”

No, Snufkin hadn’t particularly cared before, recalling many a party at Moominhouse where he and Moomin had stolen away with a bottle of ale to share at his camp across the brook.

He gave up on trying to give the mug back.

“Luulitikka,” the woman introduced herself. “This is my husband Signias.”

“Pleasure to meet you all!” Joséphine chirped. “Looks like we’re all friends of Joxaren, huh?”

Luulitikka pressed her lips together into a thin line again.

“We thought he was dead,” Signias said slowly. “We haven’t seen him since he was like, eleven. Lost track of him when a couple of our friends died. We tried looking, but when he didn’t show up, we thought he got lynched like Ato.”

“I thought he was dead too,” Snufkin interrupted, flinching nervously when everyone turned to look at him. “He disappeared when I was four. He abandoned me in the woods.”

“Well, out of character actions aside,” Joséphine chirped happily, “He’s definitely alive! Saw him two weeks ago, in fact. He dropped by for a visit. Kinda melancholy! And all by himself. He drops by to visit every few years. Last time he came in like, super depressed, so he must be doing better! Time before that must’ve been when he came in with some friends on a blue ship.”

“The Ocean Orchestra,” Snufkin said, and Joséphine nodded, snapping her fingers.

“Yep, that was it.”

“I want to know what running into my child in the forest was all about,” Luulitikka said cautiously. “Like I said, she’s twenty. She’s been travelling on her own for some years now. That sounds like a fae trick.”

Snufkin tapped the table slightly, frowning. “I- I don’t know. I ran into a small kid in the forest. She said she was lost, that her name was Miette, and that her mother wore a bright red jacket and was named Luuli. And she said her parents were heading to Hathaway.”

“Did she say anything weird? Ask anything weird?” Joséphine asked.

“A few things I guess. She knew I was looking for my dad, and that I was angry.”

Joséphine laughed, stretching languidly. “Well! I don’t know bout y’all, but I knew that Joxaren looooooved to tell stories. He always had a good few new ones to tell me every time he’s stopped by. I think you just had a run in with the Painted Lady.”

“What?” Snufkin asked, startled.

“Makes sense,” Signias interrupted. “You’re looking for your dad, right kid? You must’ve been about to miss the three of us, and we had crucial knowledge for your journey. So she intervened to set you on the right path. She’s the guardian of lost children, after all.”

Snufkin could vaguely remember bedtime stories about a woman protecting lost children. Suddenly, the candle his mother always lit in front of one of her garden statues on his birthday every year made a little more sense.

“Did he say where he was headed?” Snufkin asked hopefully.

Joséphine shook her head sadly. “Nope. I knew he left east. That’s it.”

Snufkin slumped in his chair, and Joséphine reached over, gently patting his shoulder.

“Hey, kid. You’ll find him, especially if you’ve got the Painted Lady guiding you. Stay the night, get some rest in an actual bed, yeah? And then you can head out tomorrow.”

Snufkin let Joséphine guide him upstairs into a small inn-like setup. One of the small bedrooms was still free, and he tucked inside for the night as her insistence, mumbling a soft thank you as she walked away.

  


_Miette stood in the room in front of him. Snufkin sat up in the bed warily, pushing the blanket off himself as he stood up._

_“I’m sorry. I lied to you,”she said softly._

_“I’ve figured as much by now.”_

_Miette smiled sheepishly, twisting her hands in her jacket. “You were heading down the wrong path. You were going to miss them, and I wanted to set you in the right direction again.”_

_Snufkin blinked, and instead of the small girl standing in front of him, there was a tall woman, whose ears and tail seemed to resemble a fox._

_“You’re on the right path now, dear,” the woman encouraged. “Head east again. There’s a town of hemulens, near Hungary. You’ll find him there.”_

_“A town full of hemulens?”_

_“Don’t judge a mumrik by their fur, my child.” The woman crouched down, the sheer veil draped around her arms floating like a ghostly apparition. “You’re close.”_

_“It doesn’t feel like it. It feels like a useless goose chase.”_

_“You’re angry with him, and I understand that.” She gently stroked Snufkin’s cheek. “You’ve every right to be. But tell me, do you have the heart to forgive? You have a good heart, but don’t let your anger cloud it. Your anger may warm you now, but it will leave your grave cold.”_

_Snufkin fell silent, and the woman stood up. She smiled softly at him._

__

_“Remember, my child- a hemulen town in Hungary. You will find them there.”_

  


  


_Late February_

_Snufkin-_

_Before you say anything, I want you to know both Moomin and I are happy and it was a mutual decision to break up. It was about time anyways. We’ve been “dating” (and I use that word loosely) for so long that it felt more like obligation than anything else._

_That being said, I support the two of you wholeheartedly! I’m happy you guys aren’t playing dodgeball with each other’s feelings anymore. But you’d still better treat Moomin well or I’ll hurt you, you hear?_

_Wherever your current travels are taking you, I hope they’re treating you well. Moomin isn’t telling us much about anything, except for the general area of where you are. (Did you know he’s put up a map in his room? He thumbtacks all the towns he’s received letters from you, and he’s drawn lines along the paths he thinks you’ve taken. It’s so sickeningly sweet, y’know.)_

_I expect all the details when you get back!_

_Lots of love,_

_Snorkmaiden_

  


_Dear Snufkin,_

_That’s going to be one long journey! But I poked around in your mother’s garden- that statue is exactly like the dream woman you described. Do you think that it really was the Painted Lady? If it is, you really must be close to finding your dad now! I hope everything goes well, and that you’ll get to go home soon! Everyone’s starting to wake up now, and everyone’s really missing you. Mama put away the first jar of peach jam for you. I know it’s your favorite ~~and I know the first jar is always the best, so I really wanted you to have it.~~_

_~~Snorkmaiden and I broke up, but it was a long time coming. We’ve both been kind of looking for a reason, honestly, so I’m alright. I actually wanted to ask you~~ _

_Mumble wants to know when you’ll be expecting to be back. It sounds like she and Too Ticki are talking about getting married..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> vadrouiller is french and means "to travel aimlessly". In Chapter 2 with Hodgekins, he's in Estonia. Last chapter he was in Poland, and now he's in France. (Moomin Valley is in Finland, to give some perspective on how far this kid has traveled.)  
> also, this wasn't supposed to be 3000 words


	5. Freyis

_May_

_Moomintroll-_

_Sorry if Freyis spooked you, I know she’s rather frighteningly tall, but she’s been rather lovely. I couldn’t find a non-hostile town and she hails from Norway, so she knew the area and volunteered to deliver the letter for me._

_I received an odd letter from Snorkmaiden. From what I can gather, it sounds like you two broke up. ~~Please let me know what I~~ Please let me know if there’s something I can do for you. I imagine that’s a bit of a shock after so long. ~~She also said that you’ve been mapping out my travels? Is that true? I don’t mind if it is, but if I had known I would have sent letters more often and with more details. I can start sending letters during my normal winter travels too. That is, if that’s what you want. I find it a bit sweet honestly, like you’re trying to guide me with your love~~_

_By the time you read this, I’ll have either found my father or have given up, but either way, I’ll be on my way back. This goose chase is tiring- it’s like he doesn’t want to be found. If I don’t find him here, I’m giving up. If Mumble and Too Ticki plan for anything after Midsummer, I’ll be there. Summer weddings seem to be the rage right now though- I actually stumbled across one myself…_

  


  


Snufkin hadn’t seen so many mumriks gathered together outside of a Midwinter or Midsummer celebration. Granted, there only seemed to be about twenty or so, with a couple of children scattered about. There’s even a small handful of trolls about, not too uncommon in itself, but it was enough to signal that it wasn’t some mumrik gathering he hadn’t known about. The dance itself was incredibly odd, a kind of one where it seemed the occupants were being swung about to the music, but Snufkin paid no mind to it, chalking it up as something local. He was entirely set on simply slipping past and continuing on when his eyes fell upon the bonfire. Sitting amongst the roaring flames was a girl of lavender and candy floss pink, sitting comfortably as the flames licked her skin.

“That’s a willowisp, kid,” a voice said, and Snufkin glanced behind him. A woman towered over him, easily taller than his mother, with hair and furred paws the same color as fields of flax that he’d traveled through before, and the soft velvety fur on her nose the color of chilled honey. She passed by him, an axe in one hand and firewood tucked under her other arm as she walked towards the bonfire.

“I know,” Snufkin managed, trailing behind her. The woman’s fur seemed to be much thicker than the other mumriks gathered here, just like his own, more adapted to cold autumns than humid summers. “I don’t see them this far south, usually. They’re native to the north.”

The woman’s stoic face twitched into a slight smile. She set her axe down, holding out a log to the fire, and the willowisp gratefully took it, stacking it in the flames.”

“Aye. She travels with me.” The woman sat down next to the bonfire hearth, and the willowisp pooled the flames in her hands, urging them away from the mumrik. “She’s Brighid. I’m Freyis. Far from home, are we?”

“Yes. I’m Snusmumriken.” Snufkin sat down next to her. “You’re from the north, then?”

“I usually roam the taiga,” Freyis said, passing the willowisp a few more logs to feed the fire. “Mostly in Norway. Where are you from?”

“I roam anywhere, really, but my haunt is Moomin Valley.”

Freyis nodded. “Very far from home, then. How have your travels fared?”

“Well enough, I suppose.” Snufkin leaned his elbows on his knees, resting his chin in his hands. “I’m on a wild goose chase.”

Freyis nodded as another party goer approached, taking the mug she was offered. Snufkin took the one passed to him, setting it down next to him.

“I actually had a question, although I’m not sure you’d be able to answer it,” Snufkin continued after the other mumrik left again, leaving them with their drinks. “I’m looking for a specific town. I’m actually looking for someone. I was told I’d find him there.”

Brighid laughed, the sound like the high pitched squealing of a smoldering pine cone, seconds from bursting to pieces. Freyis turned to her, and once Brighid captured her attention, her hands began moving in a flurry of movements, lips splitting into a wide grin. Then her hands stilled, and Freyis nodded, turning back to Snufkin.

“Brighid says she remembers most of the places we passed through,” Freyis translated. “I’d be careful where you’re headed though. Lots of towns in this area are hostile to mumriks. Lots of hemulens and fillijonks. Don’t travel alone.”

Snufkin frowned, sitting up straight and picking up his mug, drumming his fingers on the side. “Well, that answers part of my question I guess, but that makes it more difficult.”

“Oh?”

“I’m looking for a hemulen town, in the Hungary area.” Hesitantly, Snufkin sniffed the drink before cautiously tasting it. The spice of the drink burnt his tongue, and the heat of the drink burned his throat going down.

“I’d drink that slow.” Freyis’s mouth twitched into a smile again. “And if you’re looking for a hemulen town, you’ve got the cream of the crop here. There’s plenty. This fellow you’re looking for- a hemulen? Got a score to settle?”

“I’m looking for my dad.”

Freyis paused, frowning slightly as her gaze drifted away from Snufkin and to the party.

“You said it was a wild goose chase.”

“It is. I keep missing him. This town is my last ditch attempt. If he’s not there, I’m going home.”

“I see.”

Freyis fell silent, tapping her fingers on her knee. Brighid leaned forward, gently brushing her hand on Freyis’s leg before motioning with her hands again.

“This fellow,” Freyis said, and Snufkin looked back to her. “Your father. Was he a mumrik?”

“Yes.”

She nodded, standing up. From her jacket pocket, Freyis pulled out a small glass bottle, and uncorked it. Brighid jumped from the flames, disappearing from sight in a flash, and when Freyis re-corked the bottle, Snufkin could see a small purple flame resting inside. Freyis pulled the cord tied around the bottle around her neck before picking up her axe and offering a hand to Snufkin.

“Come with me.”

Snufkin took her hand and let her pull him up, dusting himself off and picking up his bag. Then Freyis turned, axe in hand, and began to leave the clearing. Snufkin followed quickly after her.

“You’re a halvsie, aren’t you? What else are you?”

“My mother is a mymlan-” Snufkin began, then Freyis cut him off.

“Then you are a mymlan, and you don’t know who your father is. You live with your mother and your siblings. It’s dangerous to be a mumrik here. If someone asks, you’re a mymlan.”

“I don’t quite understand. Where are we going?”

“I know what town your father is in,” Freyis said.

  


Freyis first led Snufin to her own camp, letting Brighid out of her bottle to stretch her legs and sit comfortably in the campfire hollow. The willowisp watched in amusement, laughter like popping corn kennels, as Freyis packed up the camp.

Together, they cleaned up Snufkin’s appearance. They cleaned off his jacket in a nearby stream, and his hat was rolled up and tucked away in his bag. Freyis combed out his hair neatly, clipping back his bangs so his horns were visible.

“I still feel like I don’t understand what’s going on,” Snufkin said, pulling on the plain black gloves Freyis had given him to hide his furred hands, as he followed her down the road.

“You’re taking the train- the proper way, unfortunately, as much fun as it is to jump them.” Freyis had left Brighid at the camp, her own poofy tail tucked away under her jacket to be as inconspicuous as possible. “There’s a town in Hungary- it’s a hemulen town, Lillafüred. If he’s in any town near here, it’ll be there, and if you don’t want to miss him, you need to be as fast as possible.”

“What’s got you so certain about Lillafüred?” Snufkin frowned as the two of them stopped just outside the town limits, still slightly hidden by the forest shadows.

“It’s got the only mumrik safehouse in the country. A red barn house, owned by a sweet older couple.” Freyis passed him a few coins. “There’s a passenger train heading there tonight- I rode it out here two days ago. Looking like that, they won’t bat an eye and they’ll let you board.”

Snufkin nodded, pocketing the coins and looking into the town. “I’ve got to send a letter- to my best friend back home.”

Freyis glanced up into the sky, towards the setting sun. “I don’t think you’ll have time. Where is it, Moomin Valley, you said?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll take it. I’ll hop the midnight freight train north after I gather my camp- and Brighid. I know where it is, and the less opportunities you give them to get a good look at you, the better.” Freyis held out her hand.

“Wait- give me just a moment.” Snufkin pulled the letter and the pencil out of his pocket, scribbling a quick addition to the letter before sealing it in the envelope and passing it to Freyis. “Here. For Moomin Junior.”

Freyis nodded, tucking the letter away in her breast pocket. “Go- you don’t want to miss that train.”

Snufkin turned, heading into the town.

“Good luck!” Freyis hollered after him.

No one in the station batted an eye at Snufkin as he purchased the train ticket with the coins Freyis had given to him, the conductor eating up his story of his mother sending him to help his grandmother and sitting him in an empty booth. The train ride went just as smoothly, and honestly, if Snufkin had known cleaning up and showing his horns would have made things in hemulen towns so much easier, he would have done this sooner. He settled into his seat, watching the forest slip by.

  


  


“Do… do you want to come inside?” Moomin hesitantly asked, gripping the letter tightly in his hand.

The towering blond woman shook her head. “I came to deliver a letter is all. Have a good day.” The woman turned, walking back down the road.

Moomin slowly closed the front door, looking down to the envelope the woman had given him. A large grin spread across his face when he saw the messy scrawl on the envelope, and clutching it tightly to his chest, he rushed upstairs to his bedroom, shutting the door and propping it closed with his desk chair. For extra good measure, he pulled the ladder in his bedroom window up, closing and latching his window to make certain Little My couldn’t get in.

Moomin pulled his box of letters out from beneath his bed before sitting down against his nightstand, tearing open the letter and delving into it.

His shoulders sagged slightly at the entire paragraph that had been blotted out. Although he was guilty of just as much (even trashing his own letters and starting over afresh), Moomin always wondered about what was behind the ink. Snufkin surely didn’t carry a lot of paper on him, meaning each page he used to send a letter was precious, and everything he wrote down would have been carefully thought out to make sure no mistakes were made, or paper wasn’t wasted.

Ink blots meant Snufkin was more than second-doubting what he was saying.

~~What WAS he saying, that he blotted out? Was it because he mentioned something where he got hurt? Was it something he thought Moomin would find boring? Something- else?~~

~~Well, now he’s definitely reading into something that isn’t there.~~

“Lillafüred,” Moomin muttered, letting the name roll over his tongue. He stood up, tucking the letter carefully into the box with the rest of them before standing up and looking over his map.

It took a little hunting, but Moomin located the town on his map, carefully pushing a red tack into the town. “There! Lillafüred.”

The tack stared back at Moomin, and he sighed.

Spring had started dreadfully boring without Snufkin. He’d gotten over his moping eventually, sure, but even now he still felt lonely, missing the campfire nights and the sound of the rope ladder creaking under Snufkin’s boot, telling him they’d be off adventuring that night.

Moomin had meant it when he said Snufkin’s letters were keeping him company.

But this time, Moomin couldn’t even busy himself with a return letter. Snufkin hadn’t written him an address, and so he had nowhere to send it to. But he was heading back- was probably already on his way back now, like he said in the letter. 

Moomin smiled to himself. The woman who had delivered Snufkin’s letter by hand would have had at least taken a few days to get here if she was jumping trains like Snufkin had mentioned doing before. By now, certainly, Snufkin was already on his way back.

Moomin opened his window back up, pushing the letter box back under his bed before opening his door and heading back downstairs.

“Was that Snufkin?” Mumble asked, setting out cups for tea. Too Ticki sat at one of the dinner table chairs, writing away in a journal. “Tea?”

“It was. Thank you.” Moomin sat down, and Mumble passed him a cup. Moomin’s eyes drifted over the table, a pile of envelopes and loose papers strewn about. “You guys look busy. Do you need help?”

Mumble huffed, sitting down with her own cup of tea. “For as much as I daydreamed about getting married as a kid, this is a whole lot more work than I thought it would be.” Mumble picked up a few envelopes, sifting through them. “Too Ticki, are you sure this is everyone?”

“Except Hodgekins, which we already sent out,” Too Ticki counted on her fingers, “My parents, which we already also sent out, and Stinky, who’s probably going to show up anyways.”

“Ugh, Stinky,” Mumble muttered under her breath, taking a sip of her tea. “Moomin?”

“Yes?”

“There is actually something you could help me with.” Mumble set her handful of envelopes down except for one, pressing her fingers over the seal again before passing it to Moomin. “This is for Snufkin. If you could send it to him with your letter. Even if he’s busy, maybe it’ll make him hurry up a bit.”

Moomin shook his head, tracing the neat cursive on the front of the envelope before passing it back to Mumble. “I’m not writing a letter. He didn’t give me an address to send anything to.”

Mumble’s shoulders fell. “Oh.”

“No, no, it’s a good thing!” Moomin quickly said. “His letter said he was heading back soon! He’s probably already on his way back, because he said he’d be back by midsummer. You can give it to him in person!”

Mumble perked up again, setting the envelope back down in the pile. “Oh, that is good then. Is he doing well?”

“Sounds like it,” Moomin said, lifting his head to look out the front window.

Soon.

  


  


_Dear Snufkin,_

_You are cordially invited to join Mymble Junior and Too Ticki for their weddings on September 22, 19XX, in Moomin Valley._

_We look forward to celebrating with you._

_Too Ticki and Mymble Jr._

_PS- You’d better be back in time, buster! -Mumble_


	6. The Old Barn

“Next stop, Lillafüred!”

Snufkin lifted his head from the seat rest, scooping up his bag as the train slowly rolled to a halt. As soon as the train had come to a complete stop, Snufkin was down the aisle and hopping off, quickly slipping away from the crowded train station. A mostly empty wagon trail departed from the station, the signpost declaring it was the road to Lillafüred, and he stole into the forest lining the road. It took him a good couple minutes to muss up his hair until it was comfortable again, ripping off the gloves covering his hands and pulling his hat back on. Once he was comfortable again, he stepped back onto the road, staring down it as it traveled through the forest.

This was it.

Snufkin took a deep breath, putting one foot in front of the other, and began walking down the road.

It only took him a few minutes to get into the town, ignoring the dirty looks he received from people he passed as he walked. Despite the lateness of the night, there were still a few people milling about, and Snufkin tried to keep his distance from them, keeping his head ducked low. None of the buildings he passed as he wandered the town matched the description of the safe-house Freyis had given him, and he surely wasn’t about to ask one of the townspeople milling around.

Snufkin approached one of the fences bordering the main square of the town, intent on hopping it to explore the further reaches of the town, but as he approached it, hand out, he froze, fur standing on end.

Something was off.

Snufkin pulled his hand away before he could touch it, eyes darting over what looked like a standard chain link fence. Unable to tell if anything was off using his eyes, he closed them, straining his ears. He could faintly hear a soft humming, almost like when he was back in Hodgekins’s lab-

“Oh I wouldn’t touch that now!” a voice called, and Snufkin opened his eyes, looking over his shoulder.

An old couple in a wagon, being pulled along by an aging mule, had stopped along the road, and the woman waved to Snufkin, the corners of her eyes crinkling as she smiled.

“That fence is electrified, hun! It’ll zap ya like the last poor fellow if you touch it.”

“Electrified?”

The woman reached into a small bag resting in her lap, pulling out a nut and chucking it at the fence. The nut bounced off the metal with a loud crackling noise, and landed at Snufkin’s feet, smoking. The outer shell of the chestnut had burst open completely, the meat on the inside fried.

Snufkin swallowed, stepping back further from the fence.

“I’m Rita, dear,” the woman said, offering a hand out to Snufkin. “Jozsua and I own the red barn just outside of town. I’m assuming that’s what you’re looking for?”

Snufkin stepped to the wagon, gratefully taking Rita’s hand and climbing into the wagon bed. “I am. I was told I’d meet someone there.”

“Jolly good,” the man next to Rita- Jozsua, it must be- said, slapping the reins to the mule, and the wagon lurched forward, rolling forward again. “We’ve already got a guest, but he always asks to sleep in the barn attic whenever he visits, so our guest room will still be free, if you’d like to spend the night inside.”

“If not, of course, we’ve got the entire barn field available for you to pitch your tent in,” Rita chimed in, turning in her spot on the driver’s bench to look at Snufkin. “And if you’re in the mood for a hot meal, you’re more than welcome to join us for dinner. There’s always room around our table, dear.”

“Thank you.”

“What’s your name, son? Who you waiting for?” Jozsua asked.

“I’m Snufkin.” He leaned forward, resting his arms on the back of the bench. “I’ve been trying to find my dad.”

“Got lost?” Rita asked sympathetically.

“A long time ago,” Snufkin said.

  


The rest of the wagon ride to the farm was quiet, filled with the sound of buzzing cicadas as Rita continuously offered Snufkin chestnuts from the small cloth bag resting in her lap. As the farm came into view, bordered by a low white fence, what caught Snufkin’s eyes first was the large red barn, and the farmhouse at the top of the hill, the wood painted a bright yellow. At first, he wrinkled his nose at the sight of the white fence that bordered the farm, but as they continued down the road and he saw sheep dotting the field, he wrote it off as not deterring people, but only an attempt to stop the sheep from wandering too far, especially with its easily hopped height. (Besides, he sincerely doubted someone would be dumb enough to fence “their” land when keeping company with mumriks.)

Rita slid out of the wagon and opened the fence gates, and Jozsua directed the mule up the road into the farm, and Snufkin jumped out of the wagon bed as he continued to drive it towards the barn. Snufkin instead followed Rita up to the farmhouse, bag slung over his shoulder once again.

“Like my husband said, the guest room is open if you’d like, dear,” Rita said, ushering Snufkin into the barnhouse. “Come on in.”

“Thank you,” Snufkin said again, scuffing his boots before stepping inside so he wouldn’t track any mud in, and set his bag at the base of the coat rack. “I really do appreciate it.”

Rita waved her hand, laughing slightly. “Oh, don’t fret it. We’re well aware how our neighbors think, but I don’t give a hoot! You folks are a fun lot to talk to. When my father owned this farm, it was a mumrik safe-house, and as long as I’ve got anything to say about it, it’s going to stay that way.” Rita stepped into the kitchenette area, and Snufkin followed, politely listening to her. But as he stepped to the doorway of the kitchen, his eyes fell on an old photograph hung on the wall, and he froze.

The front door opened again, and Jozsua stepped inside, hanging his coat on the rack. “Kid says he wants to stay in the barn again tonight. Told him he better at least come in to visit for dinner.”

“You know how Jokester is,” Rita called from the kitchen, and Snufkin’s heart leapt into his throat.

“Who’s that?” Snufkin asked, pointing to the old photograph on the wall.

“Hmm?” Rita poked her head out from the kitchen. “Oh, that one? That’s my pa and little brother.”

“But he’s a mumrik.”

“Blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb,” Rita said, stepping out of the kitchen but still mixing the bowl in her hand. “Poor thing got dumped in town by his own father when he was a kitten, and my pa wasn’t having that. So he adopted the little thing. Named him Jokester. He left with a gang of other mumriks years ago, but he comes and visits us every now and then. He’s in the barn now, if you’re wanting to meet him.”

The photograph of his father, young and proudly showing off a baby fang he’d lost, taunted Snufkin.

Snufkin turned on his heels and bolted out of the farmhouse and down the hill to the barn.

The barn doors were opened partially, and the hinges creaked slightly as Snufkin pulled them open a bit more, slipping inside. Blinking rapidly so his eyes would adjust to the low light, Snufkin’s gaze swept over the entire inside of the barn, falling onto one corner of the barn, where a bed of hay had been spread out for a milk cow to rest on. Leaning against the cow, face covered by an old red hat was his father.

Joxter.

Anger bubbled up violently in Snufkin, and he stormed his way over to him, clenching his hands into fists at his side.

“HEY!”

Joxter bolted upright, his hat falling to the side. The second he saw Snufkin, his eyes widened, the color draining from his face.

“Yeah, I’m talking to you, you bastard!” Snufkin snapped, and oh how crude he felt when the word slipped from his lips, but seeing his father cringe was worth the nasty feeling it left behind. 

Snufkin stopped in front of him, unable to control the shaking in his hands.

“Awful lot of damn NERVE you must have to leave a child defenseless in an unknown forest!” Snufkin yelled, but this time his father didn’t even flinch. “You couldn’t have even bothered to leave me with my mother and save everyone the trouble before fucking off, you heartless monster!”

Joxter lurched forward, and Snufkin hissed, claws out and ready to swipe at him, but Joxter pulled him into a tight hug. Snufkin tried to push away from him, struggling to escape his grasp.

“Let GO of me!”

“I thought you’d drowned,” Joxter said softly, barely loud enough for Snufkin to hear.

And Snufkin crumpled. For the first time in a long time, he let himself be willingly be held.

And for the first time in a long time, Snufkin cried.

  


  


“I thought you had drowned,” Joxter said again, once they had both begun to calm down, after crying for so long that Snufkin was sure he wouldn’t be able to cry again for another good few years. “You wandered off during the night, and there was a flood. I thought you had been swept away and drowned.”

“No,” Snufkin said weakly, making no effort to climb out of his father’s lap. “The headmistress of an orphanage found me in a basket, washed up on a river bank. I stayed with them for a while before setting out on my own.”

“I should have paid more attention to my forebodings,” Joxter lamented. “I shouldn’t have waved them off like I did.”

“Nothing you can do about it now.”

“No. No there isn’t.”

“Besides.” Snufkin sat up slightly, wiping his eyes to get rid of the itchy dry tear tracks. “It ended up alright in the end. I ended up back in the valley after a couple years.”

“How many?”

“Four-ish.”

Joxter’s face crumpled slightly. “I gave up looking after four years. By the time I would have found you, I wasn’t even sure you’d remember me anymore. We must have had so many near misses.”

“I didn’t remember you,” Snufkin blurted. “I still don’t- not really. I mean, I know what mom and Moominpappa would tell me but- the headmistress said I had hit my head really badly, it hurts to try and think that far back. Even now.”

Joxter frowned softly, brushing Snufkin’s bangs back to see the twisted scar in his forehead.

“I’m proud of you,” Joxter said.

Snufkin frowned, shaking his head so his hair fell back into place. “How? You barely know me either. You have no idea what kind of person I am.”

“Even so,” Joxter said softly. “You’re my son, and I will always be proud of you.”

Snufkin’s face twisted up again as he tried to swallow the lump that formed in his throat again, and buried his face into his father’s coat as he began to cry again.


	7. Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mood music: The Lament of Eustace Scrubb, The Oh Hellos  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QHlTMxBzguI

_Late June_

  


_Moomintroll-_

_By the time you read this, I’ll be two weeks away._

_-Snufkin_

  


  


“You said you thought I’d drowned,” Snufkin said. “What happened?”

Joxter jumped off a mossy boulder to the base of the hill below, going off trail and trekking into the forest, and Snufkin followed dutifully. They traveled together in silence for a few minutes, as Joxter gathered his thoughts before he quietly spoke.

“What is it you want to know? Everything?”

“Everything.”

“I’m not sure what more there is to tell other than I already did,” Joxter said slowly. Twigs and underbrush snapped underneath their boots as they continued to walk further off trail, heading vaguely north. But every time Joxter opened his mouth to speak, Snufkin was always waiting with bated breath, not wanting to let even one word of any of his stories slip away from him unaware.

“You were four, and it was your first winter trip. Your mother said you were having trouble hibernating, so I took you with me.” Joxter paused, grimacing slightly. “You disappeared during the night. My only guess was that you must’ve left the tent while I was asleep. But when I woke up, the river was flooded. And I never saw a single trace of you ever again. I spent years searching for you.”

“That’s all?” Snufkin asked. “Why wouldn’t you have tried to stop me from slipping out or whatever?”

“I was debilitated by forebodings about the whole thing. I should have paid more attention to them rather than dismissing them as I did.” Joxter glanced at Snufkin from the corner of his eye. “But I suppose… there was the tree.”

“The tree?”

  


_He had to get his thoughts in order. Pure panic certainly wasn’t going to be any help._

_Joxter turned back towards the camp, clothes thoroughly soaked from the spray of the angry, gurgling river. Gripping the sides of his jacket tightly, he shivered, trying to shake away the cold seeping into his bones. What did he know, and what did he not?_

_He knew Snufkin was gone, and although Joxter wasn’t sure, he thought he had seen Snufkin’s small backpack gone, along with his small wicker basket._

_He’d probably gone to go try and find nettles by the riverbank anyways, Joxter thought with a grimace. He should’ve kept a closer eye on him._

_Joxter knew Snufkin had had some experience with water with currants stronger than him. They’d taken a few beach days back in the valley. Snufkin would know not to fight against the currents, but rather let them carry him and try to angle himself to the bank and be washed ashore._

_But if he had done that, Joxter would’ve already found him-_

_He’d have to risk it and report Snufkin as missing to the local authorities. Hopefully word about his park-burning habits hadn’t drifted this direction yet, and Joxter wouldn’t have to deal with those repercussions. From there, ideally, word would spread to the next few towns, and Snufkin would show up, and someone would find him._

_Joxter kicked dirt over the campfire, covering the ashes and gathering up his camp. He’d run as fast as he could to the next town and report Snufkin missing, and-_

_He froze. He was being watched._

_Joxter stood up straight, glancing around. But he couldn’t detect anyone nearby, not even a creep underneath a bush._

_Actually, the entire forest surrounding him was unnaturally still and unnaturally silent, like something unknown, far bigger and more important than it had frozen in time with an unspoken command. For once, despite deep in his own terrain, his own element, where he was most comfortable and where he could slink away into the shadows in the same time it took someone to blink, Joxter felt like he was out of place, like he was intruding._

_He shouldn’t be here. Not anymore._

_Something caught his eyes, and Joxter froze again, eyes squinting to make out what was there, to see if what he had seen was true._

_A tree, off in the distance, swayed slowly from side to side. The tree was taller than Joxter would have expected from the size of the trunk, and it almost seemed like it was moving… closer._

_Slowly, Joxter’s eyes trailed up the trunk of the swaying tree, which definitely was closer now than it had been, and his fur stood on end._

_It wasn’t a trunk._

_It was a body._

_It was made of twisted and gnarled tree bark, forming a grotesque mask, the joints of the looming, towering monster creaking and grinding and gnashing every time he took a step, like a great tree crashing to the ground. Ancient moss grew on its joints and hung in dreads like hair around the mask, a thick black liquid like oil dripping like tears from the holes in the malformed mask._

_The wooden colossus groaned, the sound like an entire forest being flattened and destroyed by one forceful gust of a hurricane, and now it was nearly at the edge of Joxter’s camp, the black oil dripping onto the soil as the monster reached out-_

  


“Tree monsters aren’t real,” Snufkin said. “I’m not a little kid anymore.”

Joxter smiled, like he knew something Snufkin didn’t, but he stopped the story, shrugging and shoving his hands into his pockets.

“I’m telling you. He was as tall as Moominhouse.”

“There’s no such thing as a tree monster. I feel like I would’ve seen one by now.”

“Ah, but he’s the only one of his kind, you see-”

Snufkin rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t help the grin on his face. “Yeah, yeah. Okay, dad, giant tree monster. But why didn’t the police try to help you? Helping lost children is like, the Inspector’s biggest thing.”

“Oh, I was a mumrik, so of course they didn’t want to help, lost child or not. They thought I was causing a ruckus as a distraction for something larger. But-” Joxter’s brows rose. “You’re friends with an inspector?”

“Mumble dated him for a while. Didn’t do anything when I burned all the signs from a park nearby.”

Joxter grinned widely, knocking Snufkin’s hat back slightly and ruffling his hair. “That’s my boy. Tell me about it.”

“Another time, perhaps, I think you owe me quite a few stories before I begin.” Snufkin righted his hat. “Tell me, did you really meet the fairy queen, or is Moominpappa just full of it?”

“Oh, you’ll believe that but won’t believe a tree monster?” Joxter demanded.

  


  


“I’ve been meaning to ask,” Joxter said, as he followed Snufkin up the mountain trail. “Where are we heading? It seems like we’ve been travelling with a destination in mind.”

Snufkin stopped at the top, where the trail forked into two. He could see into the valley from here, and he could see the town, and the pale blue dot that he knew was Moominhouse on its own small hill.

Once, in a dream, he had seen all the way into Moominhouse from this spot on the mountain, and he had been presented with a choice. Settle in the valley- forever- or roam the world to his heart’s content- alone.

He had forged his own path here.

“Of course, we’re heading home,” Snufkin said, and Joxter came to a stop at the top of the mountain, next to him. His eyes fell onto the valley.

“Yes,” Joxter said faintly, “That’s where I thought you might be heading.”

And suddenly Snufkin was filled with doubt.

He’d spent this entire journey looking for his father, to get answers to lingering questions yes, but also with the intent of bringing him home. Snufkin had seen the effect that Joxter’s disappearance had on everyone in the valley- the way Moominpappa’s eyes would become tinged with hints of sadness whenever he recounted stories from his younger days, or the way when the bonfire’s light grew low at parties, when most had headed home and the remaining few were varying stages of drunk, foreign songs that started as whispers before the voices grew in strength and in number. His mother, lost in thought, eyes always falling on the forest horizon.

“Did…” Snufkin swallowed, trying to find his voice. “Did you not want to come home?”

“It killed me to stay away.” Joxter took a few steps down the trail towards the valley before stopping again, rooted in place. “There was nothing more I wanted than to return home.”

“Then why didn’t you..?”

“I couldn’t bring myself to face them. Not after losing you. I was afraid. I thought I didn’t deserve to.”

Joxter turned back to Snufkin, eyes welling up with tears. “God’s sake, Snufkin. I thought I had killed you.”

“They’ve missed you so much,” Snufkin said, stepping next to Joxter. “Mom won’t let anyone climb your apple tree.”

Joxter barked out a laugh that quickly became a sob, collapsing to the ground, and although Snufkin knew he was far too old to still be doing such things, he climbed into his father’s lap and let himself be held.

  


  


He could tell the midsummer bonfire was in full swing by the noise alone.

Joxter trailed behind Snufkin, tail twisting nervously upon itself, but Snufkin couldn’t help the glee that filled his steps. He had missed spring with ~~his~~ Moomin, but he had plenty of plans to fill their summer and fall to more than make up for it. Even though Snufkin knew no one would hear it over the performance of the band, he pulled out his harmonica as they approached closer, beginning his Not-So-Spring song, the piece he’d been searching for finally found.

Two parts adventurous, with splashes of the types of music he’d heard while travelling, one part almost like a story, tinged with sadness and longing.

And they finally emerged from the forest, at Snufkin’s empty campsite.

Joxter hesitated once again, like he had a couple times as they had traveled down the mountain path and further into the valley, but when Snufkin only paused to shuck off his bag before heading across the bridge to Moominhouse, Joxter set his own bag down and followed him.

Snufkin only managed two steps off the bridge before he heard Moomin yell.

“SNUFKIN’S BACK!”

Other voices raised, heads turning as the music died down slightly, and almost immediately, everything stopped in its tracks as Mumble screamed and something shattered against a table. Joxter froze next to him, uncertain what to do as everyone's eyes fell on them.

For one, silent breath, everyone remained still, and just as Joxter began to curl in upon himself slightly, ready to turn tail and disappear, everyone moved at once. Some of Snufkin’s older sisters screamed in delight, and his mother was a blur down the hill, upon them in seconds, nearly knocking down Joxter as she scooped him into a hug, gripping tightly. Joxter froze again, arms halfway reaching out to her, but Muddler and Moominpappa were swift on Mymble’s trail, joining in on the hug, and then so was Mumble and Moominmamma and a handful of his older sisters, piling in. Joxter’s eyes welled up with tears once again, and he laughed slightly, gripping Mymble tightly and melting into her hug.

“Snufkin!” Moomin yelled again, and Snufkin threw his arms out for a hug as Moomin came crashing into him like every year. The two boys squeezed each other tightly and with joy bubbling inside him in the way that it was, Snufkin couldn’t help himself, burying his face into the side of Moomin’s snout before they finally let go of each other.

“Snufkin, you did it!”

“I said I would, didn’t I?” Snufkin said cheekily, and Moomin laughed, squeezing Snufkin’s hands tightly.

“Oh, you have to tell me everything! Everything you did and everything you saw inbetween the letters!”

“I’ll tell you everything,” Snufkin promised, just before he found himself tugged away by a hand on his shoulder, and he was pulled into a hug between his parents. Snufkin grinned, melting into the embrace.

He felt complete.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're rounding the final bend to this series! Next week will begin the final installment, Like Flooding Waters.  
> It's hard to imagine that this was originally intended to be two part-er. Thank you so much for joining me on this journey.

**Author's Note:**

> This person is saving my life when it comes to formatting! They have what is, essentially, a masterpost of all the formatting codes for AO3, so please give them some love. And, hey, here's a resource in case you're a format code pleb like myself.  
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/5191202/chapters/11961779


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